PrompTuesday #17

PrompTuesday #17 is to get specific... That is, show someone the scene, rather than tell them about it. Does that make sense? No? Go here, and it will. No rules today. Just writing.

Descriptive writing is not something I'm gifted with. At least not lately. But I'm going to try it anyway.

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As my body sinks into the water, I feel the air being sucked out of my lungs. My breathing quickens as though I were hyperventilating. Soon, though, my body in the wetsuit warms the water, and I can breathe normally again. I can feel the rubber from the water ski tight on my feet, ready to go. Drops of water sprinkle my face as my mom lobs the rope to me. My gloves loosen when the water seeps into them, and they no longer squeeze my hands like vices. I grab the rubbery handle and squeeze. The scent of exhaust and lake linger in the air as the boat pulls away. I'm shifting my weight from side to side like a gymnast on a beam, trying to find my center of balance, waiting for the rope to pull taught, for the moment to be right. It has been a while since I've done this, I'm not sure I'll remember how. The fear hits me for a second, like when you're on the first hill of a roller coaster, looking down, ready to fall. Suddenly, it is right.

HIT IT!

My eyes close tight as the water rushes up around the ski. I remember to open them just in time to see the upside-down waterfall erupt from the lake around my legs. The boat gets to speed, and I'm flying on top of the water. The ski has become a part of me as I glide over the wakes and begin my turn. The rope slackens just a bit, I slow down, time stands still for just a second. There is a slight pause, then, like a rocket, I fly across the wake. Remember to bend your knees, keep your arms at your hip, lean just enough. There is some turbulence as I go over the wakes, and then I'm flying again.

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I never imagined there would be an August when I'd put water skiing together with a wet-suit. But it was too cold outside here today to imagine skiing without one. My nose and ears hurt from the wind whipping around them. I miss summer. No one complain to me about heat. I promise I won't brag (read: I won't brag endlessly over and over again) about the weather here come winter, okay?